Video Killed the Reality Star/Chapter Five
Chapter Five: I Need a Director “Last time on Total Drama Island: For Your Entertainment, the contestants were quick to make friends and enemies. Isaac and Angel bonded over their troublemaking habits, Donna coldly rejected Sebastian’s alliance offer, and Zack pulled an anonymous prank on Elena.” Chris cupped his hand to the side of his mouth like he was telling a secret. “Word of advice, man: if you’re going to annoy someone, try to avoid it being the whiniest member of your team. “Our romance-themed challenge started with the cast getting a chance to play Cupid to try to earn chances to impress me. I gave them some time to prepare, during which Cara accidentally stole some flowers from Chef’s garden, Elena tried (and failed) to get in on Sebastian’s alliance, and Avery bestowed Isaac’s face with The Slap Heard Around the World. It’s pretty hard to impress somebody who already has everything, but they gave it a pretty good try. I appreciated the offers of fashion and hot girls, but it was Victor’s ode to me that earned The Emmys the win. “Sick of Eric’s bragging and general obnoxiousness, The Oscars took his crappy challenge performance as an excuse to send the jock home.” Chris shrugged. “I didn’t think he was that bad. I talk about myself all the time and nobody’s ever said anything about it. Whose act''ions will win over their team, and who’ll embarrass themselves on international television? Find out this time on Total … Drama … Island: For Your Entertainment!” “- So it will be easy to get some of those idiots to vote with us. At this point, everyone just wants to play nice, so they have no reason to turn us down, right?” “Oh yeah.” “It’s practically impossible to win three challenges in a row on a show like this, so unless some freaking miracle happens it’ll be our team at the Team Choice Awards next.” “Uh huh.” “There’s no way anybody’s going to fight to keep her here. You’d have to be deaf to want to keep around somebody who babbles nonstop in that annoying little voice.” “Yup.” Elena banged her hand on the table in front of Gabe. “Are you even listening to me?!” “Of course,” Gabe responded, though he didn’t look up from the cell phone he was playing with on his lap. “What are you doing that’s more important than talking about our alliance?” Elena lunged over the table and snatched the device from her teammate. Looking at its screen, she raised an eyebrow. “Why are you looking up pictures of boats?” “That’s ''my boat.” The bushy haired teen corrected her, snatching his gadget from her. “My father bought me another yacht to add to my collection.” “Where did you even get that?” The socialite asked as Gabe tucked his phone into his pocket. “I thought Chris stole your phone after the last challenge.” The rich kid snorted. “You think I only have one phone?” Elena rolled her eyes. “Let’s just get back to the important stuff: our target for elimination.” “Could you remind me one more time of who that is?” “''Minerva.” The hotel heiress groaned. “You really didn't hear a word I said?” “I heard some of it. You said we’re bound to go to elimination next, you think we can get the majority vote, I get the idea.” Elena gave him a satisfied grin. “Could you maybe just explain ''why you want to eliminate her one more time?” The other Emmy rolled her dark eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “After the first challenge, I had a chat with Minerva that I know she hasn’t forgotten. We can use that to our advantage and hang it over her head, and she’ll probably break down during the – HEY! Eyes over here!” Gabe quickly turned his head. “I’m paying attention!” “No, I saw you staring at your reflection in the window!” “Well, sorry.” The wealthy jerk sneered. “We’re being filmed twenty-four/seven, you know, so I was just making sure I look camera ready. I don’t want to look poor or something.” “You’re going to look a lot worse than poor if you don’t get your head out of your ass and listen to me.” Elena threatened. “Hey, don’t get pissed at me. Take out your anger on Minerva. What’d you even say to her that’ll throw her off so badly?” “Oh, just that – what the hell is that?!” A strange blur of orange and green zoomed across the table between the two Emmys, falling off the other end. With a high pitched whirring sound, the foreign object drove in circles around them. The pair yelped in unison and leapt from their seats, Gabe hiding underneath the table while Elena stood on top of it. The intruder’s rings were getting smaller and smaller until it finally zipped under the table. Startled, Gabe kicked it away, sending it rolling across the room. “Did it stop?” Elena questioned. When the object didn’t budge, the pair of rich kids moved to examine it. Lying on its back was a bright green remote controlled truck, its four wheels spinning rapidly in the air. Gabe picked it up for a closer look. “A toy truck? Where’d this even come from?” Disembodied snickers drifted through the air, and he dropped the truck with a shriek, the little vehicle zooming away. It hadn't evaded trouble, however, as Elena had seen all that she needed to. “I know exactly where this came from!” She stomped towards the food window and reached her arm over the counter, plucking somebody from behind it. She dragged the body across the counter and onto the floor. “It’s the rat I share a bathroom with!” Zack gave her a nervous grin and a finger wave. “Hey there.” “You really screw yourself over when you paint a ‘Z’ on all your stupid toys.” Elena crossed her arms. “Now I want to hear you beg for mercy or I’ll make sure it’s your head on the chopping block next.” Before Zack could say anything, a chuckling Risty leapt over the food window with a controller in her hands. “Oh man, you guys should’ve seen your faces! We scared the crap out of you!” “What’s she doing here?” Gabe asked, joining Elena in glowering at them. “We’re partners in crime now.” Zack stated as Risty pulled him to his feet. “Turns out she loves pulling pranks as much as I do.” “Forget this, I’m not wasting my time talking to a gremlin and a frizz ball.” Elena headed for the exit, towing Gabe by the arm behind her. “Come on, I’ll kick Monique out of my room and we can finish talking there.” She shot one more glare over her shoulder before slamming the door behind her. Risty exchanged a mischievous look with Zack. “You’re her neighbor, aren’t you?” The technophile nodded. “Then let’s get another one of your inventions and crash their party again!” Confession Cam Zack: “I know what you’re probably thinking: how’d that dorky little guy make friends with that Amazon? Well, Risty and I are physical opposites, but we have a lot more in common than I thought. Pulling pranks isn’t any fun if you have nobody to laugh with, and she’s got a killer sense of humor, so I guess we just clicked.” BANG! BANG! BANG! “Allison, get out of there!” BANG! BANG! BANG! “Either you get out or you let me in!” BANG! BANG! BANG! “Allisoooooon! I’m going to get Robert to break down this door!” The aforementioned punk smirked as she wiped her makeup off in the mirror. The door between her room and the bathroom was locked tight, and Avery had been unsuccessfully trying to barge her way in for the last thirty minutes. BANG! BANG! BANG! “Fine, you know what? I’ll break the door down myself!” Allison paused in the middle of smearing her eye shadow when she heard a massive thump against the door. When she heard Avery whine in pain, she let out a cackle and resumed cleaning her face, her roommate soon going right back to pounding on the door again. The door on the other side of the bathroom opened up, and Paul leaned in. “What’s wrong with her?” Paul had to practically shout to be heard over the racket. “What isn’t wrong with her?” Allison remarked. “Does she realize she can get into the bathroom from my room too?” “I really doubt it.” The crimson-haired girl narrowed her eyes at her teammate. “You’re not going to tell her that, are you?” “I’ll let her figure it out for herself.” Paul shrugged. Allison turned back to the mirror with a smile. “I knew I liked you.” “Seriously, though, I’d let her in soon. You can hear her all the way on the first floor.” Paul flinched when he heard Avery ram against the door a second time, though Allison didn’t even pause in washing off her lipstick. “I’m pretty sure that means Chef can hear her too since he’s only at the end of the hall.” “Then hopefully he’ll use her face to break down the door.” The daredevil said with a giggle. “She can wait until I’m done. Sharing is caring, after all.” “It’s your funeral.” Paul muttered, cupping his hands over his ears to block out the noise as he returned to his room. The Emmys in the room below Avery’s had been attempting to do the same thing as Paul for the last half an hour, though it seemed easier to pray that the drama queen would stop than to tune her out. Wes was sitting on the floor with a pair of headphones on, trying to drown out the pounding with an electric guitar solo. Victor was on his bed with a pillow wrapped around his head, his eyes wide and his jaw clenched. After another minute of the banging, he threw the pillow onto the floor in frustration. “Dear God, it’s me, Victor Phae.” The actor folded his hands and looked up at the ceiling. “It’s been a while since we talked, but could you please just grant me some peace and quiet?!” After another loud thump, it was suddenly quiet upstairs, and a smile spread across Victor’s face. However, the rhythmic knocking continued once again, and he collapsed onto his back. “Damn it! I said please!” Wes popped one of his ear buds out and looked up at his roommate. “No offense, but screaming only adds to the noise.” “Am I the only one who was expecting to be allowed some sleep tonight?” Victor whined, pushing his face into the mattress. “I’m pretty sure tomorrow’s challenge day, and I don’t want to lose because I’m in dire need of a nap!” “If anything, it’ll be The Oscars who lose. They’re the ones that’ll have to deal with the aftermath of whatever’s going on up there.” The musician said. “We haven’t lost a challenge yet, and you totally rocked the last one.” “It was freak luck.” The Romeo admitted. “My poem sucked.” “It wasn’t that bad …” “Wes, don’t try to lie. It was a total piece of crap.” The lanky teen got to his feet, tossing his music player onto his bed before leaning over to dig through his suitcase. “Okay, so it sucked, but it still got us the win.” Suddenly, a crash much louder than the previous racket sounded from above, and the guitarist bumped his head on the top of his luggage. Victor stared up at the ceiling as the howls and screeches of two animals fighting traveled into their room. “Hey! It’s still my turn!” Allison’s muffled voice yelled. “You’ve been in here long enough!” Avery snarled back. “You wouldn’t get out, so I’m forcing you out!” When the sounds of their physical and verbal fight continued to leak through the ceiling, Victor pounded his fists into his mattress. “Just vote me off now to spare me from hearing this every night!” Confession Cam Wes: “After a few more minutes of Avery and Allison fighting, I’m pretty sure I saw Victor try to suffocate himself with a pillow case.” The musician frowned. “Even when they stopped, he just kept complaining and whining until he fell asleep. He seems like a nice guy, but, if you ask me, he’s a bigger drama queen than Avery.” Avery: “After our bathroom debacle, I went to Chris and politely requested a rooming change. I told him that I was reduced to breaking down the door and tackling Allison, but he still said no because ‘it’s good for ratings.’” Avery crossed her arms. “Ha. Like I'' won’t already be drawing in ratings. I voted for Allison at the last elimination ceremony, and I plan on voting for her the next time we lose. I. Want. Her. ''Gone.” “Have a good breakfast!” Robert waved to Camille as she headed to The Oscars’ table with a full plate. The footballer used a spatula to slide the remaining pieces of French toast to the front of the tray in front of him. “Who’s next?” When nobody responded to his call, Robert leaned out of the food window and spotted Monique slumped at the front of the line. “Good morning, Monique!” When hearing her name, the designer rubbed her eyes and lethargically dragged herself to stand in front of the food window. “Sorry about that, guess I’m just a bit exhaus-” Monique cut off her own sentence with a yawn. “I’d say you’re more than ‘a bit’ exhausted.” Robert chuckled, plopping two pieces of French toast onto the New Yorker’s plate. “Why does everyone look so down this morning?” “Elena and Gabe were having a meeting in my room last night, so Princess Harks threw me out without my key. I was stuck in the hall reading the same magazine over and over for hours before she let me back in.” Monique explained, taking a pair of sugar packets from the container on the counter. “I could probably recite every ad in that magazine word for word for you.” “Well, that’s not too bad.” The athlete commented. “Oh, no, that’s not the end of it. As annoying as she is, Elena couldn’t keep all of us from sleeping.” The designer continued, pouring one of the sugar packets on top of her toast. “As soon as I got back to my room, World War III started upstairs. Allison and Avery kept me and probably the whole hotel up all night.” “Well, that was yesterday. Today’s a new day, and I’m sure it’ll be a lot better than last night.” Robert took a quick look around before scooping another piece of French toast onto Monique’s plate. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m giving you an extra piece of toast to cheer you up.” The trendsetter smiled, though she raised a perplexed eyebrow. “I’m in the farthest room possible from Allison and Avery’s, but they still kept me up. You’re on the same floor, so you must’ve heard them, right?” “Yeah, but I’m not going to let something as little as that throw me off. There’s no reason to let the bad things hold you back.” Robert gave her his brightest grin, and Monique couldn’t help but smile back. “I’ll stop holding your line up. Thanks for the pep talk … and the food.” When the designer walked away, Robert turned around to see if Paul had made any more French toast. Once his tray was filled up, the daydreamer turned around to find that Minerva had appeared in front of the counter. Her eyes shifted around the room nervously, and her glass of orange juice was shaking in her unsteady hands. “You okay?” Robert asked, and Minerva jumped at the sound of his voice. “Whoa, sorry! I didn’t mean to freak you out.” “It’s okay, I’m fine.” The redhead rolled her tense shoulders. “I’m just a little on edge, that’s all.” “That doesn’t sound good. You’re usually as happy as I am.” The footballer pointed out, plopping two pieces of French toast onto her plate. “Did the catfight last night keep you up too?” “No, no - well, yes actually, but it’s not that.” The loudmouth shook her head. “It’s just … okay, I know this is going to sound totally crazy, but I think there’re some people on my team who are out to get me.” “I’m sure they’re not-” “No, really, they are.” She persisted. “I’ve heard some of them talking, and they want to-” “Hello there, Minerva.” The blabbermouth’s blue eyes widened as Elena and Gabe scooted in to stand on either side of her. Elena gave her a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Nice morning, isn’t it? What were you guys talking about?” “Oh, just normal stuff like … the weather!” Elena and Gabe both gave her disbelieving looks, and Minerva swallowed a lump in her throat. “No, I meant the show! We were talking about Total Drama – no, wait, it was our zodiac signs. I’m a Gemini and Robert’s a …” Minerva’s eyes drifted to the athlete’s for assistance, but he was clueless to astrology and could only offer her a shrug. The motor mouth sighed under her teammates’ cold stares. “We were talking about nothing. Absolutely nothing. I literally just met this guy.” “Oh, yeah, since we’re on different teams we never ran into each other before.” Robert agreed, scooping French toast onto Elena’s and Gabe’s plates. “We really weren’t talking about anything important, just the weather and how she’s a Jemima-” “Gemini.” Minerva corrected. “Sorry to interrupt your chat, but we’d love it if you’d come sit with us today, Minerva.” Gabe started walking towards The Emmys’ table, stopping after a few steps to wait for Minerva to follow him. The redhead tried to bolt in the complete opposite direction, but Elena darted in front of her. “What he meant to say is you are sitting with us.” The socialite redirected the other Californian with a shove. After the chatterbox staggered a couple of steps, Elena and Gabe returned to their positions as bookends on either side of her. They led her a few more steps before Minerva tripped over nothing, her French toast sliding off the plate and splatting onto the floor. “Whoops!” The redhead giggled, her voice taking on a breathy, clueless tone that had been absent when she’d spoken to Robert. “Silly me, I dropped my food! I’d better get a new one-” “You can have mine.” Gabe traded plates with the loudmouth as he and Elena forced her to continue walking with them. Minerva gave Robert one final worried look over her shoulder before she was ordered to sit in a chair between the two wealthy teens. Confession Cam Robert: “I try to see the good in everyone, but right now I can’t find anything positive about Elena and Gabe. Minerva was right about there being something fishy going on with her teammates, and I just want to help her! I could just tell them that … um …” His brow furrowed. “I could get them away by saying … uh … forget it, I’ll tell you my plan later. It’s slipped my mind right now, but I know it was a good idea!” Once breakfast was finished, the twenty competitors were directed towards a block of four identical gray warehouses. The only thing that distinguished one building from the other was the large numbers painted above their only entrances, though the cast knew not to underestimate what could be waiting for them inside. The building for their first challenge had been equally as bland, but it contained an entire stage and audience. The group entered Warehouse One to find that it had a rather odd layout. The left and right halves of the open room were symmetrical, each containing four sets laid out with various props and backdrops. Scattered around the room were professional grade video cameras, lighting equipment, and lit vanities. Surrounded in boxes and racks of clothing in the center of the room was a familiar face, though it wasn’t Chris McLean. “Hello everybody, Rachel Claire here.” The gossip introduced herself as though she was conducting a news report. “The producers thought I’d be a better fit to chaperone this challenge since I have a lot more connections in the industry than Chris does … which is totally true if he tries to tell you otherwise. So, welcome to the set of your new music videos!” She received a puzzled look from the twenty teens in front of her. “Oh, come on, you couldn’t fake a little bit of enthusiasm?” “We have a grand total of one musician here.” Angel stated. “The rest of us have no reason to be thrilled.” Wes raised his hand from where he stood towards the back of the group. “For the record, I’m psyched.” “Well, at least there’s one of you.” Rachel Claire rolled her eyes. “Anyway, today’s challenge is sponsored by several independent music groups who are just dying to catch their big break. And what better way is there for a band to get big than to make a unique music video? Instead of having to pay actors, we figured it’d be a lot easier if you guys were the stars. Each team needs to pick three members to take the positions of the crew. There’s the director, who is your team leader for this challenge and runs the camera; the wardrobe specialist, who will be handling costuming, makeup, and hair; and the backstage crew, who’s in charge of lighting and placing props. These three won’t be showing up in the video, since they’ll have their hands full without having to add acting to the job. “The director will randomly pick one of four CDs, which will determine which song you are assigned. I’ll give you a packet that has all you’ll need to know about the music video, including the music genre, a basic plot, roles, and song lyrics. Don’t freak, because there doesn’t have to be any singing during this challenge, just some lip synching. The team members that were not assigned to the crew will be actors and will blindly pull colored pieces of paper from a hat to decide their role in the video. Everybody with a slip of paper has to appear in the video, even if that just means they’re a background prop. The part that each color corresponds with is different depending on which script you get, though gray slips always represent an extra. “Each team has the same four sets to work with: a street, a bedroom, a small restaurant, and a plain room with instruments in it. You’ve been provided with electronics to film and edit your video and you have access to any of the props in this room. You have six hours to plan, film, and edit your video. We’ll then play them up on the big screen and whoever’s is the least humiliating wins!” Rachel Claire put a hand on her hip at the blank looks her rapid fire challenge rundown receive. “What’re you waiting for? Huddle up and pick your crew members so we can start the clock.” Choosing the three roles was quick and relatively easy for both teams. For The Emmys, Monique and Risty volunteered to work wardrobe and backstage respectively, and Zack was elected to be the director due to his extensive knowledge of computers. He told his teammates that he had experience with high quality video editing software that he’d ripped from the internet, so he would easily be able to add special effects to their video. Irina and Paul volunteered for the wardrobe and lighting roles on The Oscars and, after a few minutes of squabbling, Avery claimed the directing position. Rachel Claire fanned four CD cases out in front of her and called the two directors forth. “The only things that the four songs here share in common are that they’re all only a little over two minutes long and that they’re very … well, I’ll just say unique. Since The Emmys won the last challenge, they’ll get to pick their poison first.” Zack pursed his lips before choosing the leftmost CD. He opened the case and slipped the CD out to read its title. “It says ‘Obsession.’” “Ooh, that’s the creepy one.” Rachel Claire commented. “It’s by gothic rock band Mother Murder.” Zack narrowed his eyes. “Mother what?” “Mother Murder. It’s awful, I know, but I didn’t name them. They’re a bunch of lurching long-haired guys in eyeliner with a girl who dresses in weird outfits for a lead singer.” She stuck her tongue out in disgust as she handed Zack a pile of papers. “But wait, it gets worse: the song’s about stalking someone.” Zack skimmed the lyrics sheet with a puckered brow as he returned to his team. Rachel Claire held the three remaining CDs out for Avery, and she plucked one from the middle. She opened the case and read aloud, “We have ‘Idolized.’” Rachel Claire let out a snort of laughter. “For real?” “Yes, for real.” Avery turned the CD around to show the reporter the title. “Oh god, I was hoping somebody would get this one.” Rachel Claire sniggered as she handed a stack of paper to Avery. “It’s by a group called Gangsta Rhymes. They’re four white guys who try to rap, but it comes out as some awful hip-hop/punk hybrid.” When Rachel Claire cracked up again, Avery gave her a look as though she wanted to strangle her. “You’re joking, right?” “Read the lyrics.” The curly-haired hostess pointed to the top sheet in Avery’s pile. The brunette skimmed the words in front of her, her expression darkening as she got further down the page. “''Got my bling on, so you know that I’m a balla’. Car bouncin’ up and down, know I got more dough than all ya'' … this can’t be real.” Avery looked up at Rachel Claire to find that the reporter still had a smile pinned to her face. The Jersey girl groaned and rejoined her team, who looked equally as disappointed. “Each team can claim one side of the room to work on. I’ll see you in six hours for the war between the Goths and the Gangstas.” Rachel Claire pulled a phone from her pocket and started typing away on it. “Ooh, ‘Goths vs. Gangstas’ would make a good headline. I’m writing that one down.” “This is ridiculous!” Angel dropped the lyrics sheet onto the table in front of him before leaning his head on top of it. The Oscars were sitting at their restaurant set passing around the papers for their song. The teammates that weren’t on the crew had drawn colors from a hat off camera, and Angel, Cara, Robert, and Isaac were the unfortunate recipients of the four rapper roles. After playing “Idolized” and hearing the verses they needed to pretend to rap, the quartet immediately came up with two massive problems. “I like hip-hop music, but this is just terrible.” Angel grumbled into the script. “The lyrics are awful, and they’re not even catchy.” “They’re also freakishly fast. That’s a ton of stuff to memorize in a couple hours.” Isaac pulled the paper out from under his roommate’s face and skimmed it again. “I think I have like sixteen lines … Robert’s got more.” “Guys, come on, it’s not that bad.” Robert insisted. “Did you hear the voice of the guy I’m supposed to be?” Cara asked. “It was deep and definitely a man. Nobody’s going to believe that that voice came from me. I know I’m really skinny, but even with styling there’s no way you can hide that I’m definitely a girl.” “If you can even call it 'styling'.” Irina remarked. “I was expecting it’d be high fashion with a twist, something Madame Gogo-esque, not street trash. I could throw you guys in t-shirts and sweats and call it done.” “I wish we hadn’t voted off Eric.” Camille whimpered. “He loved rap music, so he would probably know all about this.” “Guys, no need to be negative!” Robert interrupted the pity parade. “We can deal with it.” “Easy for you to say.” Avery rested her chin in her hand. “You don’t have to direct this crap fest. Rachel Claire said this packet would give us guidelines, but it told me squat. The only plot we have is that you four go to a party and have a great time.” “That’s all we need!” Robert exclaimed. “Look, we can use this restaurant set as the site of the party. With the right lighting, I think it could pass as a bar! And the street set could be … um …” “The band on the way to a party.” Angel pitched in. “We could dim the lights so it looks like nighttime and get our two extras dressed as our party girl arm candy.” “What about the line about the ‘car bouncing?’” Isaac questioned. “I guess we’re broke rappers.” The pyromaniac smirked. “Based on these lyrics, we blew all our royalty checks on booze and women.” “A noble cause.” Isaac and Angel bumped fists over the table. “Okay, okay, this could work.” Avery scribbled notes in the margins of her papers. “The problem is, if it’s just you four, Allison, and Camille on the set it’s going to look more like an awkward birthday party than a rager.” “We can worry about that later.” Paul slid off of his chair and glanced up at the equipment hanging from the high ceiling. “I’m going to try to find a way to get up to those suspended lights and see what I can do with them.” “And I’ll start looking through the costumes to try to find some clothes for you guys.” Irina got up, and Camille hopped to her side. “I’ll come with you!” The ditz followed the model towards the center of the room. “Wait, don’t you need our sizes?” Cara called after them. “I work in fashion, so I can take a good guess.” Irina replied. “You’re only getting freakishly baggy clothes anyway, so don’t worry about it.” “You ‘rappers’ should circle around the table and start trying to memorize your lines.” Avery pushed the lyrics sheet to the center of the table before turning towards Allison. “I really hate you, but you’re going to have to help me plot out the scenes.” “If it’ll help us with the challenge, I’ll do it.” The daredevil agreed. “We can’t lose three challenges in a row, but it’ll take all the help we can get to avoid making a total suckumentary.” On the other side of the room, The Emmys had been provided with a summary and lyrics illustrated a much clearer plot. “Okay, so Victor, you’re just a regular Joe with no involvement whatsoever with the band.” Zack paraphrased from his papers. “You’re being stalked by Ophelia, who is madly in love with you. She's also the main character of the video and the singer of the band. She follows you everywhere, and you’re kind of freaked.” “I wouldn’t run from somebody with a face like that.” Victor complimented Ophelia. “I can think of many worse people to-” “Victor, we don’t have time for this.” Zack interjected. “Sebastian, Gabe, and Donna, you’re assigned as the bassist, guitarist, and drummer. I don’t know if we’ll use you in the storyline of the video, but I figure we can get some sweet scenes of you rocking out to splice between the plot-heavy scenes. Elena, Wes, and Minerva are left as the extras. Everyone got it?” “Damn it.” Wes muttered under his breath, though Zack caught the outburst. “What is it?” “Oh, it’s just I really wanted a part.” The musician rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I know it’s stupid, but I was the only one who was really excited for this and now I’m stuck as an extra.” As his teammate spoke, Gabe heard somebody hiss his name. He looked up to see Elena glowering at him from where she sat on top of a few boxes. He mouthed a confused “what?” to her, and she gestured between herself and Minerva. When Gabe failed to understand her sign language, the socialite rolled her eyes and held up the gray extra card she’d drawn from the hat. The rich kid still didn't get the message and gave her a shrug, and Elena sighed. “Wes, I don’t think it’d be hard to get somebody to trade with you.” She gestured towards Gabe, who nodded his head. “Oh, yeah, I’m really not into this alternative rock stuff.” Gabe held his yellow card up to Wes. “If footage of me grunged up and playing the guitar gets out, people might think I’m middle class or something.” Wes’s face lit up. “Really?” “Yes, really.” Gabe put on a phony smile. “You’ll just have to do me a little favor later … just a teeny tiny one.” “It’s a deal.” The guitarist traded cards with the wealthy boy. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate this.” “It’s my pleasure.” Gabe’s words oozed sarcasm as he raised his eyebrows at Elena, receiving a nod of approval in return. “Now that we have that settled, let’s get back to the important things.” Zack scanned over his notes. “I think this’ll turn out the best if we film Ophelia following Victor around until he starts to crack. Obviously she’s obsessed, but maybe he starts to crack too? I have a bunch of ideas, but I’ll sort them out later. Monique, we’ll need an all-out costume for Ophelia, something dark for the band, and clothes for Victor and the extras too. You think you can do all that?” “Of course I can.” Monique claimed with a proud grin. “I could put together outfits in my sleep.” “You can work on that alone then. I don’t want to rush you, but we can’t shoot until everyone’s in costume, so you just have to make sure you have them ready in time.” The bleached blond boy instructed. “Risty, I want you to help me plan out some scenes. Ophelia, I need you to stay here and learn your lyrics. Victor, you can stay with her since we’ll need you guys in the same place whenever Monique’s ready for makeup. If the rest of you could go search for cool props, that’d be awesome.” “Who switched you into bossy mode, robot boy?” Elena sneered. “We all agreed that Zack is our best choice for director.” Risty defended her friend. “He’s in charge, so he calls the shots.” “Oh, sorry,” The hotel heiress brushed her hair over her shoulder, “I didn’t know our team was captained by a dwarf.” “He’s a little guy with a big brain, unlike you with a little brain and big ego.” “I really don’t think I should trust your judgment. After all, out of all the people here you decided to become besties with this gremlin. Not to mention your choice of fashion – last I checked, varsity jackets were for quarterbacks. There’s no such thing as butch chic.” “Oh, keep your bitterness to yourself.” Risty snarled. “You’re only running your mouth because we pulled a prank on you. I’m sure the viewers love the footage of you screaming your ass off over a toy truck.” “At least I-” “Stop it!” Zack butted in between his bickering teammates. “Look, we only have six hours for this, and I’m probably going to need to reserve at least one of them for editing the video. Subtract the time for setting up and Monique working her makeup magic and we’re probably only left with three hours or so to film this thing. The clock is ticking, so we don’t have time for fighting.” Elena shot daggers at the technophile. “Fine. Whatever. But it’s not for you, it’s for the team.” Confession Cam Elena: “If Risty and Zack think this is over, it’s not. If I wasn’t set up to eliminate Minerva, I’d be kicking the partners in crime to the curb. I'll listen that little rat just this once, but it's only because I can’t have him screw this up and make my team want to eliminate him first.” The socialite held up a finger. “I have my priorities, and getting Minerva out of here is number one.” “So, what exactly are we looking for?” Irina pushed the hanging clothes aside to find Camille staring innocently at her from the other side of the rack. “So far I have a few heavy sweatshirts and hats.” The model held up the items slung over her arm. “It’d be nice if we could get some ugly t-shirts or gold chains.” “Wouldn’t gold make them look a bit too sophisticated?” The ditz pondered, tilting her head to the side. “We don’t want elegant necklaces. We want big, obnoxious ones.” Irina held her hands out to show the size she was picturing. “I’m talking about fake gold with big dollar signs hanging off of it.” “Oh, okay.” Camille nodded in understanding before she began to sort through a box on the floor. It had been ten minutes since they had started to search, and so far most of the clothing looked like something out of a high school drama club’s costume stash. The black-haired Oscar grimaced as she pulled some cheap costume jewelry and a prisoner's outfit from a box, looking up when she saw a few of The Emmys coming approaching. “Hello there!” “Oh, hello.” Donna gave the airheaded aristocrat an awkward smile as she opened up the box beside her. Sebastian and Minerva scavenged through the clothing racks by Irina, while Wes stood off to the side holding an armful of random items that they’d picked up on their way over. Irina moved from the clothing rack to a clear plastic storage tin, tossing a prop shotgun to the ground so she could reach the clothing stuffed beneath it. “What are you guys looking for?” Irina asked the opposing team, giving a questioning glance to Gabe and Elena, who were observing from a few feet away. “We really have no idea.” Sebastian admitted. “Zack kind of blindly sent us out here, so we’re just bringing back whatever looks good.” “Hey, should I bring him these craft supplies?” Minerva pulled a stack of construction paper and a box of markers from where they were wedged underneath the wheel of a clothes rack. “Maybe he can write on the bedroom walls to make them look creepy?” “Throw them in the pile.” Wes encouraged. Instead of handing the markers to her teammate, Minerva tossed the box totally off course, hitting Donna on the head. “Oh, sorry!” The redhead rushed over to pick the box up and chuck it again. Her aim was a little better this time, but they still whacked Wes in the face, the musician unable to catch them because his hands were full. Minerva let out an airy giggle, her eyes flicking over to where Elena and Gabe lurked. “I guess my aim’s just off! I don’t know what you guys expected after seeing how bad I was in the archery challenge.” “It’s fine.” Wes gave Minerva an uncertain look before following her gaze over towards the two upper class teens. Before he could question it any longer, Sebastian drew his attention back to the search. “Hey, what do you think of these?” Wes yelped when he saw the hockey goalie masks that Sebastian was holding up. “Um, those might be too creepy. I think we’re going more for psychological horror than slasher flick.” The four Emmys migrated to a different pile of props a few feet away, leaving Irina and Camille to finish picking through the stack. When they’d accumulated a few good items, they returned to the restaurant, where they found the four “rappers” circled around a table with matching expressions of frustration. “Oh no, what’s wrong?” Irina asked, dumping the clothing in her arms onto an empty chair. “There’s no way I can memorize all these lines.” Robert confessed. “Even without my memory problems, I think I’d still be having trouble.” “You’ve got that right.” Angel agreed, leaning his face on the table again. “There isn’t even a good flow to the words and the song has an awful beat, which makes the lyrics ten times harder to remember.” “Well, what if we make cue cards?” Irina proposed. “There were only a few pieces of paper over there, and The Emmys took them all.” Camille reported. “I’m still hung up over how we'll make me look like a man.” Cara added. “I could lip sync perfectly but nobody would believe my performance because I’m not a guy.” “Aw, I like you just the way you are, gender and all.” Camille cooed to her roommate. “I’ll stuff your hair under a hat and layer your clothes to make you look bulkier.” Irina held up one of the grungy sweatshirts that she’d found. “You’ll drown in these extra-large shirts, but at least it’ll hide your tininess.” “I don’t exactly have masculine features, though.” The nature lover gestured to her face. “No matter how much makeup you put on me, I’m either going to look like a girl or a little boy.” “We could cover it up.” Isaac pitched in. “Did you two by some freak chance see a funeral veil over there?” Irina gasped in surprise, her face lighting up as an extravagant idea popped into her mind. “Wait, I have something better!” “Did something I said get lost in translation?” Isaac questioned as the Russian jogged away. “Because I sure didn’t say anything useful.” A minute later, the blonde returned with something hidden behind her back. “I have the answer to all of our problems.” Her teammates’ expressions of misunderstanding didn’t change when she held the objects she had collected up to them: the hockey masks. “Ooh, what could Irina have planned for those?” The camera switched over to Rachel Claire, who was sitting in a makeup chair getting her face powdered. “She’s from Russia, so I can only imagine what weird, totally European idea she has. But more importantly, how will The Oscars handle playing party boys? Will letting nice guy Zack take charge screw The Emmys over? And what the heck is up with Minerva?” She took a sip from the Styrofoam coffee cup in front of her. “Find out after this word from our sponsors on Total … Drama –” Rachel Claire suddenly spit the coffee out over the side of the chair, glaring off to the side. “I said I wanted decaf!” The reporter pushed the makeup artist away and marched off screen, presumably to give an unsuspecting intern the talking to of his life. <<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>>